Tom Gartinhttps://tomgartin.com
Wed, 19 Dec 2018 10:40:17 +0000 en
hourly
1 http://wordpress.com/https://secure.gravatar.com/blavatar/1ed948fcd8b305d0159a6203ab1bb3a4?s=96&d=https%3A%2F%2Fs0.wp.com%2Fi%2Fbuttonw-com.pngTom Gartinhttps://tomgartin.com
The Palm Treehttps://tomgartin.com/2018/02/13/the-palm-tree/
https://tomgartin.com/2018/02/13/the-palm-tree/#respondWed, 14 Feb 2018 05:30:38 +0000http://tomgartin.com/?p=1257It was Transfiguration Sunday, the last Sunday after Epiphany and before the beginning of Lent. I had just been ordained as a deacon, and we were planning to have a burning of palms on Shrove Tuesday (just two days away) but I didn’t have any palms yet.

There is no shortage of palm trees in California so I figured I’d find a palm branch somewhere, but I had no idea where. I don’t know if you’ve ever lived in close proximity to a palm tree, but they don’t drop branches very often. Usually they just drop little feathers of leaves. I was going to have to do a lot of gathering to make enough for our palm burning.

Anyway, it was Transfiguration Sunday and it was a bit chilly because the wind had been blowing like crazy all weekend. After church, I had gone out for lunch with my wife Miranda and our friend Hans, who was driving us back to our cars. And I spotted a pile of palm branches on the road, so immediately I exclaimed, “Hans! Pull over right here!”

I jumped out of the car, still wearing my clericals, and ran back down the road, back to where the palm branches were. I grabbed the biggest one and put it in the back of Hans’s car, and two days later after our Shrove Tuesday pancake supper, I burned those palm leaves to make our ashes for Ash Wednesday.

Now, it’s an amusing story, and certainly an unusual image–a deacon running down the street to collect dead palms for the sake of a liturgy–but it’s actually settled deeply into my soul. In the Christian tradition, we talk a lot about the Holy Spirit moving like a wind (Genesis 1:2, Psalm 104:4, John 3:8, Acts 2:2).

The Hebrew word ruach (roo-akh) is literally a breath but is used dozens of times to refer to God’s Spirit. So too, the Greek word pneuma (noo-ma) is literally a breath, the kind of breath you would blow to raise a fire, and it is used frequently to describe the unseen force that dwells within people giving them life, and to describe the Spirit. The Latin word spiritus refers to breath as well, and this word gives us words like inspiration (to be filled with a spirit) or aspiration (to be unable to breathe).

More so, God has created the earth as a garden for humankind to cherish and through which to know the Creator. The purpose of the ashes on Ash Wednesday is to remind us of our place in the order of the world God has made, to remember that we come from the dust of the earth and to the dust we will return. This knowledge is not meant to frighten us, but to make us more mindful, and to drive us toward penitence.

Now, penitence is not punishment. That’s not what it means. Penitence means amending those parts of your life that are not in harmony with God. It means pruning behaviors that are destructive to yourself or to the world around you. It means becoming a better member of creation.

And so, as I was seeking palms to use in pursuit of penitent mindfulness, the earth herself provided. That beautiful palm tree offered her own branch.

And so, I give thanks to God and I bless the palm tree.

]]>https://tomgartin.com/2018/02/13/the-palm-tree/feed/026078880531_b87e0719a2_o- croppedtomgartin26078880531_b87e0719a2_oThoughts on Fasting in Lenthttps://tomgartin.com/2018/02/13/thoughts-on-fasting-in-lent/
https://tomgartin.com/2018/02/13/thoughts-on-fasting-in-lent/#respondTue, 13 Feb 2018 16:32:30 +0000http://tomgartin.com/?p=1267If you’re reading this, you are probably thinking about fasting during Lent, so here is everything you really need to know.

What It Means to Fast

Fasting is not just starving yourself. Fasting is an intentional act of giving up something to increase your awareness of your reliance on God.

How you characterize God will determine what fasting means to you. If God is a celestial potentate who demands sacrifice, fasting might be a form of reflecting the sacrificial suffering of Christ. If God is a benevolent creator who has given the earth as a garden to her beloved children, fasting could be a way of clearing your spiritual senses to smell the heavenly flowers sprouting unseen all around us. And if God is the eternal order of the universe, fasting might become a means of disrupting your rhythms to discover within yourself the traces of that divine ordering. There are endless images you might use to describe your experience of God.

For this practice to be fruitful you would do well to spend time reflecting on what characterization of God is truest for you.

Material Fasts

Giving up meals is the most ubiquitous type of fast, but you could choose to only abstain from certain types of food or from food only at certain hours of the day. You could also choose another material altogether to refrain from.

While weight loss may occur with significant food fasting, you will quickly lose motivation to continue if that is your primary goal. Instead, you might consult with your physician and a personal trainer to determine a nutrition and exercise program to better meet that goal. And weight loss is certainly a valid discipline in the season of Lent, if caring for your body resonates with your relationship to God.

Food fasting comes from an ancient tradition of asceticism, intentionally depriving oneself of needs and comforts to increase one’s awareness of dependence on God.

Traditionally, a food fast through the full season of Lent looks like this:

The 40 days of Lent do not include Sundays. Sundays are still feast days celebrating the resurrection (every Friday a Good Friday, every Sunday a Resurrection Day). It’s okay to eat normally on Sundays.

During the other days during Lent, people traditionally ate one modest meal and had two collations (snacks) that together added up to less than the full meal. I might have a typical dinner (minus dessert) and have a couple apples or vegetables throughout the day. The collations are there to maintain health but not to satisfy hunger.

Hunger is a tool, and however much you choose to eat during your fast, the hunger is there to remind you of your mortality and absolute dependence on God. When your hunger is strong, let it call you into prayer.

Activity or Time

Maybe there’s an activity you’ve found to be unhealthy, and you’ve wondered what it would be like to give it up during Lent. Fasting from an activity can be immensely helpful as you enter the discomfort of managing your time and energy in a different way.

I’ve personally struggled with social media addiction, which comes from a mixture of boredom and fear of missing out. Neither is healthy, and at times I have unplugged myself to better focus on the way I spend my time, the way I think about spending my time, and the way I approach relationships. You could also refrain from shopping (except absolute necessities) or from watching TV/Netflix.

If you need help getting started, you could spend a day or two trying to write down how you spend each hour and see what your notes tell you what you’ve made a priority in your life, whether by design or by accident. Then you are free to make spiritually meaningful changes.

Adding a Practice

As described above, pushing yourself into an intentional program of health management can be a useful practice to add during the season of Lent if your body image or the way you have cared for your body are resonating with your experience of God.

When it comes to fasting, the discomfort of giving up time to bring a spiritually fruitful practice into your life has endless possibilities.

You might choose to engage in an intentional practice of generosity by preparing care kits to give our when you meet homeless people (socks are always appreciated!), or by keeping extra cash on hand specifically to give to beggars. You might choose to leave for work ten minutes earlier so you can spend time in prayer before you leave the parking lot. It doesn’t have to be huge, it just needs to be meaningful to you.

Managing Feelings

Maybe all this talk about food, Facebook, and being charitable sounds great but just doesn’t resonate with your heart right now. I’ve had seasons when I was too occupied with feelings of anxiety or depression to be able to give up any part of my daily routine. I’ve been so burdened by stress that I didn’t have the emotional strength to give up food. That’s okay. And it points to something else I could give my attention to.

God wants us to be happy, healthy, and fulfilled. God has given each of us a calling, and it is up to us to live into our potential. It pleases God to see each of us pursue our potential. When we’re feeling anxious, depressed, and discouraged it makes God sad too, and the most important thing to know is that in all of the darkness that surrounds you, God is sitting by you. Perhaps your Lenten practice can simply be reminding yourself that God is with you–Emmanuel, God With Us.

You could make it your fasting discipline to give therapy a chance: find a therapist and begin seeking help, perhaps even medication. You are not alone. Let your fast be a pursuit through the desert wastelands of depression to seek out the promised land of God’s joy and delight.

]]>https://tomgartin.com/2018/02/13/thoughts-on-fasting-in-lent/feed/0ChristInTheWilderness_1tomgartinFasting_pray5a20adc2140000f33ab6acc2.jpegNever_Alone-9874.jpegEli the Sinnerhttps://tomgartin.com/2018/01/10/eli-the-sinner/
https://tomgartin.com/2018/01/10/eli-the-sinner/#respondThu, 11 Jan 2018 05:03:43 +0000http://tomgartin.com/?p=1258This is a reflection on the first four chapters of the First Book of Samuel.

There was a man named Eli. He’ll become relevant shortly…

There was a man named Elkanah.

Elkanah had two wives. One was named Hannah, the other Peninnah. And the scripture says, “Peninnah had children, but Hannah had no children.”

Elkanah loved Hannah more, so when the family went to the temple to give their offerings, he would give Hannah a double portion.

The scripture continues:

[Peninnah] used to provoke her severely, to irritate her, because the Lord had closed her womb. So it went on year by year; as often as she went up to the house of the Lord, she used to provoke her.

Therefore Hannah wept and would not eat. Her husband Elkanah said to her, “Hannah, why do you weep? Why do you not eat? Why is your heart sad? Am I not more to you than ten sons?”

After they all had lunch, Hannah went to the temple to pray.

Now Eli the priest was sitting on the seat beside the doorpost of the temple of the Lord. She was deeply distressed and prayed to the Lord, and wept bitterly. She made this vow: “O Lord of hosts, if only you will look on the misery of your servant, and remember me, and not forget your servant, but will give to your servant a male child, then I will set him before you as a nazirite until the day of his death. He shall drink neither wine nor intoxicants, and no razor shall touch his head.”

As she continued praying before the Lord, Eli observed her mouth. Hannah was praying silently…

Now, in the ancient world, all prayer was audible. Praying silently wasn’t something you did, so the writer has to explain what praying silently means.

…only her lips moved, but her voice was not heard…

Ah, her lips were moving but no sound was coming out. couldn’t have figured that out on our own. Thanks for the clarification.

Now, Eli wasn’t the wisest priest, which will become important shortly

…therefore Eli thought she was drunk.

Eli, a priest to the temple, didn’t realize Hannah was praying silently. He just thought she must be drunk.

So Eli said to her, “How long will you make a drunken spectacle of yourself? Put away your wine.”

But Hannah answered, “No, my lord, I am a woman deeply troubled; I have drunk neither wine nor strong drink, but I have been pouring out my soul before the Lord.

Remember, she’s been praying because she wants to be able to give her husband a child.

Do not regard your servant as a worthless woman, for I have been speaking out of my great anxiety and vexation all this time.”

To his credit, Eli corrected himself and said,

“Go in peace; the God of Israel grant the petition you have made to him.” And she said, “Let your servant find favor in your sight.”

Then the woman went to her quarters, ate and drank with her husband, and her countenance was sad no longer.

I want to make something clear that we modern readers might easily miss. Whenever scripture says something like “her countenance was sad no longer,” it doesn’t simply mean she was happy. It’s a euphemism. It means she had sex with her husband. That would change anyone’s countenance.

So…

They rose early in the morning and worshiped before the Lord;

then they went back to their house at Ramah.

Elkanah knew his wife Hannah, and the Lord remembered her.

Saying he “knew” his wife, is an extremely common euphemism in the Bible that indicates when two people had an encounter of a sexual nature.

Maybe you still don’t believe me, but here’s what it says next to clear up any doubt:

In due time Hannah conceived and bore a son. She named him Samuel, for she said, “I have asked him of the Lord.”

The name Samuel means “God has heard”

This will become important shortly.

Hannah raises Samuel, and when he’s old enough offers him into service at the temple.

And she prayed.

“My heart exults in the Lord;

my strength is exalted in my God…”

Now, let’s turn our attention back to Eli, the foolish priest. Eli had two sons, and this is what the scripture says about them:

Now the sons of Eli were scoundrels;

they had no regard for the Lord

or for the duties of the priests to the people.

You can read the details on your own in First Samuel chapter two; suffice to say Eli confronted them, but he didn’t do enough to stop them from abusing their power.

So a prophet comes to Eli and warns him that this is not going to end well. People are angry, and they’re not just going to petition the bishop to have these bad priests removed, they’re going to kill them.

This will become important shortly, but let’s turn our focus back to the boy Samuel, who is growing up as a servant in the temple, learning to read the Hebrew scriptures and all about the duties of the priests.

Samuel was lying down in the temple of the Lord, where the ark of God was.

In other words, whether or not Samuel had any other place to sleep (which he probably didn’t) he was sleeping in the worship space.

Then the Lord called, “Samuel! Samuel!”

And you’ve already heard what happens next.

Samuel thinks Eli is calling for him. The voice of God sounds like a voice calling from another room, another place, the voice of someone he looks up to.

Isn’t that often how God speaks to us today? Like a voice from another place or in the voice of someone we look up to?

Thankfully, Eli had a moment of wisdom.

Therefore Eli said to Samuel, “Go, lie down; and if he calls you, you shall say, ‘Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.’” So Samuel went and lay down in his place.

Now the Lord came and stood there, calling as before, “Samuel! Samuel!” And Samuel said, “Speak, for your servant is listening.” Then the Lord said to Samuel, “See, I am about to do something in Israel that will make both ears of anyone who hears of it tingle. On that day I will fulfill against Eli all that I have spoken concerning his house, from beginning to end. For I have told him that I am about to punish his house forever, for the iniquity that he knew, because his sons were blaspheming God, and he did not restrain them. Therefore I swear to the house of Eli that the iniquity of Eli’s house shall not be expiated by sacrifice or offering forever.”

So… good news, bad news. The good news is that the people won’t have to suffer under these bad priests much longer. The bad news is that all the bad things we fear are going to happen to Eli and his sons are going to happen.

Samuel did exactly what I would do if I were a kid who’d just heard that something bad about someone I care about.

Samuel lay there until morning;

then he opened the doors of the house of the Lord.

Samuel was afraid to tell the vision to Eli.

But Eli called Samuel and said, “Samuel, my son.” He said, “Here I am.” Eli said, “What was it that he told you? Do not hide it from me. May God do so to you and more also, if you hide anything from me of all that he told you.” So Samuel told him everything and hid nothing from him. Then he said, “It is the Lord; let him do what seems good to him.”

By this point, Eli has realized his errors. He has accepted his faults, and that there will be consequences.

Eli raised Samuel, and when Samuel was old enough to become a priest, it happened.

An enemy army attacked.

The army of Israel was desperate, so they asked for the Ark of the Covenant to be brought to them from the temple–a visible sign of God’s spiritual presence with them.

Eli’s two sons brought the Ark, but the enemy still defeated them. They killed thousands of men, including Eli’s sons, and stole the Ark of the Covenant.

After it was all over, a survivor ran to the temple to tell Eli what had happened.

Now, just so you understand the context, the distance from Ebenezer, where the Israelite army was, to Shiloh, where the temple was, is a little over 26 miles–a marathon–and it’s uphill most of the way with a total elevation change of 2000 feet, like running from Newcastle to Grass Valley.

A man of Benjamin ran from the battle line, and came to Shiloh the same day, with his clothes torn and with earth upon his head.

When he arrived, Eli was sitting upon his seat by the road watching, for his heart trembled for the ark of God.

When the man came into the city and told the news, all the city cried out. When Eli heard the sound of the outcry, he said, “What is this uproar?”

Then the man came quickly and told Eli. Now Eli was ninety-eight years old and his eyes were set, so that he could not see.

In his old age, Eli was physically blind.

The man said to Eli, “I have just come from the battle; I fled from the battle today.” He said, “How did it go, my son?” The messenger replied, “Israel has fled before the Philistines, and there has also been a great slaughter among the troops; your two sons also, Hophni and Phinehas, are dead, and the ark of God has been captured.”

When he mentioned the ark of God, Eli fell over backward…and he died.

There’s a lot in this story to talk about, but I want to focus on Eli–Eli, who’d lived a long life full of guilt for his former foolishness both as a priest who failed to uphold the honor of the temple, and as a parent who failed to intervene in his sons’ abuses of power.

I think Eli blamed himself for his sons’ behavior, not just because there may have been something in hindsight that he could have done, but because the people laid their blame on him for his sons’ wrongdoing. He bore the guilt and the shame, and it robbed him of the power to act with justice, kindness, and humility. Instead, he confused humility with humiliation, and closed his mouth to the injustice and the unkindness around him.

I think of Eli, sitting in his chair, physically and spiritually blind, with all that mattered to him in the world gone to war–the holy ark of God, and his two sons. Anxiously he waits in his chair, straining his ears to hear a voice in the distance that would declare whether those foundations of his life had survived… or not.

And when the word came, he fell over dead. But I don’t think the point of the story is Eli getting what he deserved for his sins. I think it actually shows us how God loved Eli, and how God always loves us, even when we screw up, when we fail, no matter how foolish, because we are all beloved children of God.

This entire story began with God giving a child to a barren woman, a child who would become a prophet, who would eventually anoint the first kings of Israel and usher in Israel’s golden age, but whose first prophetic work was to give a message to Eli–a difficult message to be sure, for it was a message of consequences that would come to pass, but nonetheless a message.

The word came to Eli, through Samuel, whose name means “God has heard.”

And in the place where Hannah once prayed silently, offering her plea even as she listened for a word from God, in this same place, Eli sat and silently waited for another word from God. And at the moment when Eli’s world was finally shattered, God herself cradled his broken spirit and carried him into the next life.

Even the worst screw-up, on the worst day of his life, is never abandoned by God.

Whatever disappointment you feel, whatever guilt or self-hatred you carry, whatever burden of blame or unworthiness you bear, God is with you. No matter what curse you act like you deserve, no matter what punishment you passively accept from those who are not God, you are loved by God and God is with you. Your sins are not fatal, only life is fatal. Each of us may die, we may leave our bodies behind, but we will always be in the presence of God.

God is with you in the daytime of your life and in your nighttime, in your celebration and in your lamentation, in your wisdom and your weakness–God will speak to you from another place, perhaps through a familiar voice–God is with you and God will remain with you always.

]]>https://tomgartin.com/2018/01/10/eli-the-sinner/feed/0Portrait of My Fathertomgartin57931174Hannah and SamuelGod Calls SamuelArkFromDutchBibleIdentityhttps://tomgartin.com/2017/05/12/identity/
https://tomgartin.com/2017/05/12/identity/#respondSat, 13 May 2017 00:04:04 +0000http://tomgartin.com/?p=1143One of the most significant aspects of life is discovering your own identity.

As a child, one learns to imitate the behavior of others, and to obey instructions. In adolescence, one begins exploring what it will be like to become an adult by testing boundaries and seeking out contrasting role models. Some may write it off as teenage rebellion, but it’s actually an extremely intricate dance of self-discovery. At this stage, an individual begins to make their own decisions about whose example they will follow and what way of life they want to live.

As a person emerges into early adulthood, they have generally settled on a way of life that feels authentic. It may be somewhat nebulous, but it has a direction and a sense of gravity. Most importantly, they are learning to take ownership of their life. And yet, even as a person follows in the course of life they themselves have chosen, internal conflicts appear. One discovers that they have beliefs, thoughts, and feelings that do not mesh consistently with the role modes they’ve surrounded themselves with, and must therefore come to terms with an internal struggle for self-integrity. They go through periods of distress brought on by disillusionment, and even deep conflict and disdain for one’s group or heroes. This leads to what some have begun referring to as “the quarter-life crisis.” Young adults trying desperately to weave all the disparate strands of their life experiences, preferences, beliefs, attitudes, and regrets into something that feels both genuine and valuable.

The problem of disillusionment with one’s heroes is elegantly captured in the old adage, “Never meet your heroes.” While no one could ever actually follow this warning, it captures the sentiment of an adult reflecting on what they might wish for their younger self: if you could go back in time and teach yourself one thing, there’s a good chance you might try to avert your younger self from placing too much faith in any particular role model. Our heroes are human, and a human hero will inevitably disappoint us in some way. The only way to mitigate the emotional pain of this disappointment is to withhold faith and affection for them in the first place, and instead to reserve the strength of these emotions to fuel one’s courage to express oneself independently of any hero, role model, or external guide. What was once an open and generous soul may get closed off within a thick shell as a person builds walls to protect themselves from any more disappointment and heartache. When we talk about hitting “the wall” in conversations about spiritual growth, oftentimes that wall is of one’s own making.

Yet, there is a need in life for reassurance that can only be found in human connection. The comfort of common bond is the only balm for the wounds of broken relationships. We begin life looking for a hero whose life will light the way for our own. But every person has their own road to walk, and unfortunately this is a lesson that must be learned through the pain of difference and disillusionment. After a while, the fear of pain can keep us from risking any significant investment of love into others. The fear closes off life, chokes the fire within, and makes a soul cold.

Ernest Hemingway once commented, “As you get older, it is harder to have heroes, but it is sort of necessary.” Life only brings more and more experiences of disappointment and disillusionment, and therefore more reasons to give up on having a hero. However, Hemingway, despite his tragic end, Hemingway was a man obsessed with figuring out how to build the soul’s light into a strong and roaring blaze. He recognized that persevering through the challenges of mature adulthood is an impossible feat without the support of someone who can offer empathy, wisdom, and emotional validation. Ironically, the only way to fulfill one’s own identity is in relationship with people who will inevitably distract and disappoint but are themselves the only source of support and nurture.

As a deeply religious person, I have come to believe that the primary teachings to love God and love one’s neighbor grow out of the ability to know and love oneself. To discover your own identity, to open it to the world and let it grow in heat and light and sound like a roaring bonfire, to join your soul’s light with the light of others who are also working and struggling to do the same, and to take delight in dancing in the glory of its light: this is the foundation of true religion.

]]>https://tomgartin.com/2017/05/12/identity/feed/0tumblr_ne4hr2teat1sfaftvo1_1280tomgartintumblr_mnllqyqaav1r2q0ouo1_r1_1280Good Fridayhttps://tomgartin.com/2017/04/14/good-friday/
https://tomgartin.com/2017/04/14/good-friday/#respondFri, 14 Apr 2017 23:25:48 +0000http://tomgartin.com/?p=1062Jesus knew what awaited him that night. If you remember from the story of the Last Supper, Jesus instructs them one final time that they must follow a new commandment, to love one another. Before they left the table, the story tells us he sang a hymn with his disciples. Although we can’t be certain, there’s good reason to think they might have sang from Psalm 118, “O give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; his steadfast love endures forever!”

By now, it’s no surprise that Jesus turns everything on its head. He is lord, but he takes on the role of the slave. He is friend to sinners, but is betrayed. He is king, but submits to arrest. He is the teacher of the Law and the Judge of humankind, but he endures a series of unjust trials. He blesses those who curse him, and is gentle with those who reach out to hurt him. Everything goes upside-down.

Christ of Saint John of the Cross, Salvador Dali

But if we’re honest, it’s not upside-down at all. The betrayal, mistrial, and suffering of Jesus is not an exception to the way our world functions; it’s a mirror that shows us just how broken and bloodstained humanity is.

God came among us as a human, in flesh and blood. He taught, he healed, and he showed us the meaning of God’s law. But in our world, wisdom is discredited, authority is rejected, and goodness is suspect. What was the meaning of betraying him and striking him down? What meaning was there in treating God as a criminal?

Sometimes I hear preachers speak eloquently of the many contrasts in Jesus’s suffering, how he took the place of a sacrificial lamb to become the final sacrifice, how he bore the punishment for sin, and it makes for a very dramatic message. But the more I sit with these explanations, the less comfortable I feel.

When Jesus was among us, he taught that God does not desire sacrifice and offerings, but righteousness and right relationships. When Jesus was among us, he did not respond to sinners with punishment but forgiveness and loving instruction. So if you look at who needed to see punishment, and who demanded a sacrifice, I don’t think it was God–it was humans. It was our faulty view of justice and our own taste for blood that afflicted suffering on Jesus.

As I sit in these services, on Maundy Thursday and Good Friday, I can’t help but think about the people in our world today who suffer from humanity’s broken sense of justice. I think of those who are wrongly convicted, I think of people in prison and those condemned to death, I think of those who suffer because they do not matter in the eyes of our society enough to help, I think of those who suffer because of war and violence, I think of those who suffer because of unlove and neglect. And I look at the cross, and I think about a God who sits with all of them, who has suffered as they have. Not because he was self-righteous or because he wanted to suffer, but because he was righteous and the world cannot long tolerate anyone who is righteous.

Jesus knew he would suffer and did not run from it. And when I think about him waiting for his trials to be over, I hear him softly humming a hymn, “O give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; his steadfast love endures forever.”

There are soooo many reasons to feel angry. And every reason is compelling, valid, and important.

I cannot believe what our new president is doing. I feared what kind of president he would be, and I’m even more afraid than I thought because his behavior is somehow worse in reality than in my imagination. It’s like being in a nightmare you can’t wake up from. I want to kick my legs and gasp heavily, and wake up in bed, but this is real life.

A study I saw recently said we consume 3x as much information today as people did 30 years ago. Smart phones and social media make our attention immensely more vulnerable to bad news. Today, we have a steady stream of bad news. Today we don’t just see the report, we live with it in real time. This executive order and that unprecedented breach of ethics. This outrageous event and that.

I have no idea what is going to happen next. I fear blood will be shed at Standing Rock soon. I fear more blood will be shed in dozens of other places soon. I fear that our country is no longer the land of the free or the home of the brave, but the land of the selfish and the home of the greedy.

There is little I can do to amend the many sources of outrage reaching my screen. Unlike the emails I get from church and work, the notifications about our political climate offer me only a reminder of my own powerlessness within an immense and formidable system. Justice is only real in heaven, and on earth is only a shadow. But what I can do is control how much of this triplified information breaches my precious attention. I can put my phone into Do Not Disturb mode early in the evening to silence notifications until the next morning. I can put the phone away and I can refrain from opening Facebook, Reddit, and my usual sources of gloomy news.

I think it’s important that we all pay attention to our attention, that we mind our appetites for ill news, and that we instead commit ourselves to our singular arenas of influence. I want to focus my attention so that I can give more of my energy to where it will make the most difference. Instead of wasting it on social media trolls, questionable friends of tenuous friends, and headline feeds, I can choose to mute the feeds and comment threads. And I can choose to rest and gather my energies into the work I was born to do.

For me, that’s church work. It’s formation. It’s priest craft. My focus is offering space, prayer, and sacrament. My work is to trace the vistas of the heavenly kingdom that waits to spring all around us, if only the light could penetrate the dark of our pupils.

Lord, illuminate our eyes with your love, and strengthen us when we are weak, that we may hear the trumpet sound of your good news. Let not our outrage be in vain, but only the birthing pains of a blessed new kingdom where all our wounds shall be healed.

]]>https://tomgartin.com/2017/01/24/outrage/feed/0unnamedtomgartinEpiphany https://tomgartin.com/2017/01/06/epiphany/
https://tomgartin.com/2017/01/06/epiphany/#respondFri, 06 Jan 2017 18:56:18 +0000http://tomgartin.com/2017/01/06/epiphany/Today is the day the Church celebrates the Epiphany. Today, sage and sacred travelers, following a light, reach an unforeseen destination: a child who shines with the light of divinity.

Those with wisdom practice the art of seeing God in the faces of others; so too did the Magi, having cultivated the skill of seeing, see in the holy child a presence of divinity surpassing any they’d seen before.

And they marked him as a king with a gift of gold. They marked him as a priest with a gift of frankincense. They marked him as one fated for death, and significance in death, with a gift of myrrh.

Truly, this is a child of unified contradictions. The babe is both human and deity. He is worthy to tend the craft of both throne and altar. He is newborn and marked for death. What other contradictions does the holy child have the power to unite? He will bridge love and justice by accomplishing peace; liberty for the oppressed by casting down the mighty from their seat, inheritance for the fatherless by bringing the human family into kinship with the heavenly, and sight for the blind by revealing to thirsty eyes the wellspring of divinity.

The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light: they that dwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the light shined.

Today we commemorate sacred travel that brings us to holy circles of light, and the habit of seeking God’s glow in our midst. We adopt the discipline of the wise in praying

Epiphany. God’s light shines here.

God open my eyes to that light. Epiphany.

]]>https://tomgartin.com/2017/01/06/epiphany/feed/0'ADORATION OF THE MAGI'tomgartinMoney for Flowershttps://tomgartin.com/2016/12/30/money-for-flowers/
https://tomgartin.com/2016/12/30/money-for-flowers/#respondFri, 30 Dec 2016 19:22:50 +0000http://tomgartin.com/?p=879What is it about flowers that change the room? When I was a hospital chaplain, a room always felt different when people had brought flowers in. Even if the patient was fighting an uphill battle against a difficult illness, flowers brought hope into the room. When we have company over, we often put flowers out to make it a little extra special, and it totally changes the environment. Just as brewing coffee brings awakening, or how lighting a candle offers a gentle glow; a humble jar of flowers seems to multiply the love, kindness, and hope in the space.

As we approach the very last hours of the year, I want to touch on a timely subject.

Our financial system runs on a strict observance of the calendar, and once the clock strikes midnight and closes the 2016 year, we begin a new tax year. In order to get credit for charitable contributions on your taxes, you’ve got to beat the deadline, so the end of the year is a time when many people start making donations. For churches and other non-profit organizations working to advance causes of love and justice, this is the time of year that the books come back into balance with the budget we projected the year before as people make year-end contributions.

It’s sad, in a way, that some people largely donate in order to get the tax write-off. But if you have an appreciation for economics, it’s also somewhat encouraging that our system is set up to financially incentivize charitable contributions.

There are many causes that we cannot (and in some cases, should not) defer to a government agency. Our taxes support things like schools, roads, and medicare. Our other, tax-deductible contributions support things like spirituality, feminism, and minority issues. Whatever issue is most important to you, there is an organization fighting for it. If we all throw our weight behind organizations that are already working to improve the world, we can all be part of building a better world.

A Better World. As a Christian, I express this concept as the Kingdom of God, the goal of perfection in love and justice that all major spiritual traditions pursue. The Christian faith itself, in the early centuries, was often called “The Way.” It was a movement comprised of more than just practices of prayer, meditation, and ritual dining–from its birth, Christian has been a way of pursuing love and justice rooted in the example and teachings of Jesus, who was a man of divine character who came from an inconsequential town called Nazareth. In his birth, and in his triumph over death, Jesus revealed God to us. His work in healing the sick, feeding the hungry, forgiving sinners, dining with outcasts, and criticizing the powerful got him killed, but the story of the Resurrection illustrates that all the evil and violence humanity can commit cannot stop the power of God to empower us in practicing the way.

I’m no millionaire, but even small contributions at the grassroots level (my level) make a difference.

First, making small contributions to organizations that are working in these causes is a way to add your name to the list of supporters on an organizations financial records. In a world that runs on the principles of economic exchange, financial statements and accounting books are where we find reality. Want to know if an institution or a public figure is corrupt? Follow the money. Want to know how many people will be saved from disease or hunger? Follow the money and it will become clear.

Second, giving something is always better than nothing. Maybe you’re afraid you can’t afford to support something. In that case, the cost of a cup of coffee is relatively painless and actually makes a difference. Maybe you’re embarrassed you can’t give more. In that case, you should remember that most people don’t really pay that much attention to you anyway; plus, if someone’s really judging me because I don’t give more than $5 to something, they’re welcome to make up the difference for whatever they think I should be donating. No matter how small, something is more than nothing.

Third, giving gets me more invested in the efforts and achievements of these organizations as they fight for causes I believe in. It changes the way you read the headlines when you see an organization you support accomplishing something big. It makes you somehow a part of that achievement, and the joy of celebrating it multiplies.

In the last hours of this year, and as you look toward another year, I encourage you to join in prayerfully considering what small contributions you can make to get involved in the wonderful work happening all around us in building a better world. Even the smallest gift is enough to put flowers on the table, and bring the scent of hope into the room.

Well, not so new. The systematic concept I am advocating has lurked in the background of Christian thought for centuries, but has been eclipsed by the doctrine of substitutionary atonement, a theory that relies on blood being shed for wrath or ransom.

* Soteriology: a (systematic) concept or doctrine of salvation; concept of how divinity and humanity accomplish unity; the manner in which peace is reached between God and humankind.

Substitutionary Atonement

Substitutionary atonement is the soteriology that emphasizes the death of Jesus on the cross as the primary event that accomplished peace and unity between humanity and divinity. It is based on the concept of propitiation, the idea that humankind has offended God and must find a way to appease God. In the ancient world, the dominant assumption was that propitiation was accomplished through sacrifice–an offering of crops in the temple, a burnt offering, or a blood offering. Substitutionary atonement, therefore, meant that Jesus took the place of the sacrificial animal, and in doing so paid an ultimate sacrifice that made any further sacrifice obsolete, for the debt of humankind was paid in full forever.

Wrath Theory.
One way to characterize this is that humanity has offended divinity. Humanity must propitiate this offense, but is too weak to do so. God, unable or unwilling to simply forgive the debt or improve humanity’s moral powers, must inflict the wrath of justice upon someone. Ordinary sacrifices are inadequate to accomplish salvation for all humanity, so God’s own son, Jesus, descends into mortal form. He interposes himself between the wrathful God and tainted humanity, thus Jesus shields humanity and also fulfills the payment of God’s wrath. God, having finally expressed his righteous wrath, is appeased.

The problem with wrath theory is that this concept places God in the role of an abusive father lashing out in rage, it places humanity as the child hiding in the corner too young to understand, and thus it places Jesus in-between as the codependent mother who baits and bears the father’s beating to deliver the children from direct harm but is helpless to deliver the children to a safe house where the danger is absent. It is impossible to reconcile this theory with a God who personifies unconditional love, or even true justice. With a God like this, God’s virtue is surpassed by the virtue of his creation if even one human being can live generously without exacting wrathful retribution on a debtor. Several such examples come to mind.

Ransom Theory.
Another characterization of substitutionary atonement introduces a third party: somehow God has yielded custody of humanity’s fate to Satan, another spiritual being whose chief role is to interfere, obstruct, and oppose. Humanity, in succumbing to sin, has become the hostage of Satan. To deliver humanity, sin must be propitiated, but humanity cannot accomplish this on its own because humanity is too weak and too easily led into temptation. God recognizes divine intervention is the only way and therefore descends into mortal form, fully God and fully human, in order to die. In his death God, in the person of Jesus, tricks Satan into shedding sinless blood, divine blood, that expunges the bondage of sin and delivers humanity back into God’s custody forever.The problem with ransom theory is that this concept makes God an incompetent fool. How can a God of all power and wisdom, who created the spiritual and physical universe, and ordered their ways, be so foolish as to get locked into contract with a lesser power (nevermind why he created an adversary in the first place, that’s for another essay) and so powerless as to be unable to nullify it? This theory hinges on the event of God ceding possession of his most beloved creatures to the worst possible master, as well as the event of God having to deceive Satan in order to exploit some loophole. The tale of a subdeity who is some kind of cosmic snatcher of innocent humans makes for dramatic preaching, but it’s terrible theology because it lessens God’s divine power and places him in conflict with other cosmic beings who actually threaten his status.

Eschatology.
Any soteriology lays the course to its own eschatology, the concept of what happens at the end of time. In the soteriology of substitutionary atonement, whether that’s wrath or ransom, we are led to a final judgment day where God sits on the throne and evaluates his creatures. When they are determined to be justified, they may inherit God’s eternal heavenly kingdom and live there forever with a cruel, unmerciful, and foolish deity. Of course, the double-destination theory presents the happy option of eternal torture in hell to make heaven with this deity seem more appealing.

No More Substitution.
Pursuing my critique to its conclusion, I dismiss the concept of substitution. Sacrifice was an ancient practice that survived by being appropriated into the religion of God–appropriated by fallible humans doing their best to express their experience of God, albeit in imperfect ways. Sacrifice is obsolete, outdated, outmoded, moot, violent, and no longer excusable. Therefore, I believe God in the person of Jesus did not come to be a sacrifice for the sake of propitiating God’s wrath or settling a celestial dispute. Jesus was a sacrifice inasmuch as he practiced nonviolence and endured the punishment of human wrath, offering his body as the canvas for our brutality because humanity is bloodthirsty and violent. As we look upon his passion, we see how great our need is for shalom. Christ’s death on the cross reflects not the generosity of God but the depravity of human ways. Left to our own devices, we murder innocents, we murder prophets, and we even murder divinity.

No More Atonement.
I also dismiss the concept of atonement. I believe there is no divine ledger tallying my sins and your sins, no fines owed prior to entry into God’s kingdom. Even if we were so indebted to God, do we really think we could pay it or that our murdering God-in-flesh would cancel that debt? Atonement is a nice thing to have done; it may feel good to have been atoned for by a loving Other. But the concept of atonement is modeled for sacrifice, and on its own does not adequately describe the relationship between humankind and God.

Improved Terminology

Salvation and Sin.
The word salvation is problematic for me, and I am replacing it. If we are not being saved from God’s wrath, or saved from Satan’s grasp, what are we being saved from? Answer: sin. We often hear about sin in a phenomenological sense: there are sins (singular and plural), actions and events that break God’s law. What I want to emphasize is a slightly different understanding of sin, not as phenomenological, but as a condition. Sin is a condition, the state of brokenness that characterizes a world in which free will exists. Free will means that everywhere there are acts of violence, greed, degradation, and oppression. God created the world, instilled in us the knowledge of good and evil (what I call moral capability), and gave us the world to govern as we will. Sin means that our stewardship of planet Earth and our fellow creatures, human and animal, has broken harmony with the perfect wisdom of our Creator.

Shalom.
I am replacing the word salvation with the word shalom, or with the English words unity and peace. Perhaps you are familiar with the word shalom. It’s a Hebrew often translated as “peace” but it means so much more than the state of not being in conflict. The peace of shalom includes that satisfying feeling of having resolved dispute, the intimacy of a distance now bridged, and the good taste of a shared meal that celebrates, remembers, and anticipates the peace that has been built and will continue to grow. Unity and peace strong enough to apply even to the relationship between God and humankind.

Nativity

The soteriology I have come to believe is founded upon the Nativity. God’s incarnation in human form, in the person of Jesus of Nazareth, accomplished (salvific) unity and peace between humankind and God. The word nativity, in its common sense means the process or circumstance of being born, a birth event, or a birth story. We call the story of Christ’s birth the Nativity story. But I want to use this word Nativity in a higher form, a concept as strong and symbolically evocative as the Cross in representing the old paradigm of substitutionary atonement.
The incarnation of God as a human at the Nativity is the chief salvific event of the Christian faith. In the Nativity, God accomplishes the whole soteriological work through his blood–not the blood of a cruel and gruesome execution, but the blood of being born. By the blood of birth God entered the human family and forever joined the families of earth and heaven together. No amount of bloodshed could accomplish peace with God like the kinship created in the Nativity. God our heavenly father, and Christ our brother.

Eschatology.
This soteriology leads us to a different concept of the end of time than the other paradigm. With the Nativity, we look forward to the end of time, when the age of the Earth and cosmos shall pass into a new era where we live in the celestial realm as we have lived in the mortal realm. God has been born into the world of humankind. With the human and divine families thus bonded in the blood of kinship, we are drawn toward the vision of a God who at the Last Day brings humankind into his house as heirs, safe and beloved, bringing the whole cycle of creation and sanctification to completion as humanity at last is born into the world of God and the celestial family.

God, Our Ancestor

Frequently in the Torah we find God speaking to humans, making promises that he will make them a great nation–meaning he will make their descendants numerous. Abraham was saved, in a sense, by the birth of his son Isaac. Isaac was saved, in a sense, by the birth of his sons Jacob and Esau, who cared for him in his old age. Jacob was saved, in a sense, by one of his younger sons, Joseph. Joseph, manager of Egypt’s granaries and food stores during a famine. Joseph, whose family grew into a small nation, impoverished by slavery in Egypt, was saved by his descendant Moses, who rescued Joseph’s house from the hand of Pharaoh. So too, God the Child of Man, saved us by bringing us all into the fold of God’s New Family. By entering human flesh in its weakest form, God sanctified and created it anew, renewing it for the New Kingdom. In being born to our lineage, God makes us his own great nation–not a nation of the earthly realm, but a nation to inhabit the everlasting realm of heaven.

God, Our Child

A name makes a child a person. Names erect a flowering trellis of meaning around a child that shapes their life and identity. The family surname ties the child to all who have come before and all who will follow in their family tree. The first name you sign on documents, middle name that pays homage to some value your parents attach to you, pet name, contracted name, Christian name (following old baptismal naming practices), and the FIRST MIDDLE LAST name (that your mother only uses when you’re in trouble) shapes you as much as the geography of your hometown or the way your hand uniquely interprets the letters you learn in primary school. A name like Martin Luther can lay a mantle of sacred duty to a child like Martin Luther King Jr., who lived not only with the 16th century reformer’s name to bear, but also as bearing his father’s own name. The names of famous water-crossers and holy wanderers like Jonah, Noah, and Moses lay their stories upon a child’s life. Let us now turn to the names given to the holy child.

“She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.”

Jesus.
The name Jesus is translated through Greek and Latin from the Hebrew name Joshua. The root words of the name mean something like “saving cry.” Joshua was the leader who succeeded Moses and led the people of Israel out of the wilderness and into the promised land. The holy child was the new Joshua, who saves his people from their wandering way, and leads them into a holy kingdom where there is no want, where the law is love itself, and where sickness, injustice, and death will be no more. Just as the name Joshua comes from Hebrew words that mean “saving cry,” the name Jesus is itself a prayer for God’s deliverance. Deliver us.

“Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son,
and they shall name him Emmanuel,”
which means, “God is with us.”

Emmanuel.The name Emmanuel (sometimes written Immanuel) means “God with us.” Emmanuel is the name declared by the prophet Isaiah, during a time of great turmoil, that God would not abandon his people to chaos and death, but would be with them. The name Emmanuel points us to the hope for peace and unity with God. More than a hope, through the Nativity it is the emerging reality of union between divinity and humanity. It is a prayer for restoration of peace with God, a prayer for restoration of unity with God. God with us, God is with us, God be with us.

Why

Why propose a different soteriology than what we have conventionally accepted? Substitutionary atonement has been normal, even normative depending on what your relationship to church authority is, but to me it is a disgrace that Nativity occupies such a low status in the church’s theology. I am especially speaking to the theology of American evangelicalism, which I was raised in before crossing over into the Episcopal Church. For too long, we have taken the birth for granted, or as a necessary step on a road to suffering that we have normalized for far too long. If we can rationalize the suffering and execution of God-with-us, doesn’t this also make it easier for us to rationalize the suffering of those around us–those who hunger, whose who are poor, and those who have colored skin? Doesn’t it push us to spiritualize rather than correct the suffering of our brothers and sisters? But the Nativity compels us to see God-with-us as brother and gasp in horror at the execution of the holy child, and thereby to see others as kin and to take seriously their sufferings. The Nativity forces us to see that in the crucifixion Christ reveals our deviance, but the Resurrection triumphs over the power of the grave that we created. Death is a gate all mortals must walk through, but death is also a tool we have used quite effectively. However, the Resurrection overwhelms our power to inflict death; it reverses it and shows us that through the power of God we might reverse the gears of violence and the machinations of injustice.

What I have argued is for a reframing of the Cross as a bitter revelation of humanity’s sin, the chief sin foreshadowed by the story of the Garden of Eden’s despoiling. Between the twin tent poles of Nativity and Resurrection, the Cross is the low point where the rain gathers into a lamentable pool of reflection. But underneath the tent, the tent of Christ’s life and ministry, Nativity and Resurrection bear the pool’s weight and create for us a shelter and an abode where God bids us come and dine with him.

To Live into Nativity

In the cycle of the church year, we first enter Advent. Advent teaches us to acknowledge the state of brokenness the world is in, and to anticipate Christ’s second coming on the Last Day. Christmas, the feast of the Nativity, celebrates our shalom with God, and anticipates our birth into the celestial realm as he was born into ours. Epiphany and the season after Epiphany teach us to recognize the work and face of Christ all around us, in our neighbors, and in the acts of selfless love that reveal Christ’s new order and new kingdom. Lent, the season from Ash Wednesday through Holy Saturday, draws us to reflect with humility upon our participation in the brokenness of the world (sin) and actively look for ways to emulate instead the wholeness of God’s kingdom. Easter, the feast of the Resurrection, and its great fifty days celebrate the power of God to overcome sin. Pentecost and Trinity Sunday celebrate the gift of God’s Spirit, and teach us to seek the Spirit’s power as we take our place in bringing the order of God’s kingdom into fruition on earth. Finally, the feast of All Saints, celebrates and commemorates those who have gone before us–those saints who have set examples for us to follow in the work of Christ–and we look forward to the day when we will join them in the celestial realm, to live into that new birth which God is even now beginning to work out in us.

]]>https://tomgartin.com/2016/12/20/nativity/feed/028a57098a0cfaac671d7020ef311f71btomgartinzurbaran-agnus-deichildren-and-domestic-violence-300x241screenshot2013-05-13at3-00-34pmcharliebrown-football7-695-7436-nativitywindow-m640px-la_nouvelle_jc3a9rusalemquietmorn-9-990x934resurrection_ssc__42526-1394731775-1000-1200_7cbd94de-5e5c-4d08-b612-35221c87c4dc_large28a57098a0cfaac671d7020ef311f71bGood King Wenceslashttps://tomgartin.com/2016/12/10/good-king-wenceslas/
https://tomgartin.com/2016/12/10/good-king-wenceslas/#respondSun, 11 Dec 2016 00:46:44 +0000http://tomgartin.com/?p=384One of my favorite carols is Good King Wenceslas. The reason I love this carol so much is because it tells a story about a ruler who sees one of his subjects suffering and personally attends to the man’s needs. In a time when the headlines, the realities of our political life make us cynical and even bitter toward government officials and those in power, it’s good to reflect on what a virtuous potentate looks like.

This carol makes a brief appearance in Love Actually, a movie set at Christmas time that’s said to be the ultimate romantic comedy. One of the main characters in Love Actually is David, the newly elected Prime Minister, who sets out on Christmas Eve with his driver to find the woman he loves. David knows which street she lives on, but not which house, so he knocks on each door until they find her. At one door, a trio of excited little girls implore David to sing a carol, and the carol he chooses is Good King Wenceslas. It’s a small detail, to be sure, and easily missed, but I think it says something huge about David’s character as PM. He is coming to grips with his role, and the fact that Good King Wenceslas is the first song to come to mind shows us how much he’s been focusing on the desire to be a good leader for his people.

The carol is a wonderful moral tale, well worth more attention than it usually gets, but it also tells the story of a real man.

Duke of Bohemia

The real King Wenceslas was never actually a king. Wenceslaus I, Duke of Bohemia. He was a young ruler, and governed only a few short years until his death at age 28. His legacy was that of charity and compassion; he brought the Bohemian Church into communion with the Bishop of Rome, bringing new liturgies and spiritual resources to his people; and he was posthumously titled as a king because of how the people loved and regarded him. Wenceslaus was canonized as a saint of the Roman Catholic Church, and the modern day Czech Republic claims him as its patron saint.

When Wenceslaus came to power he inherited a no-win situation. His father had forged an alliance with Duke Arnulf of Bavaria against King Henry the Fowler of East Francia, but at the time when Wenceslaus came into power, Arnulf and Henry reconciled and effectively dissolved Bohemia’s alliance with Bavaria. King Henry conspired with Arnulf and forced Bohemia to pay tribute to the Francia as a duchy under its control. The people of Bohemia were ill-served by Henry’s rule. Francia did nothing to protect Bohemia from raids by the Magyars. Left without allies or protection, Wenceslaus refused to continue paying tribute and was soon murdered.

The Feast of Stephen

In the carol, Wenceslas looks outside on December 26th, the second day of Christmastide, and the day when the Church observes the Feast of Saint Stephen, the first martyr of the Church. Stephen, one of the early leaders of the Jesus Movement in Jerusalem, is charged as a heretic and agitator of the peace and brought to trial, where he unloads on the council and concludes his fiery argument with this:

You stiff-necked people, uncircumcised in heart and ears, you are forever opposing the Holy Spirit, just as your ancestors used to do.Which of the prophets did your ancestors not persecute? They killed those who foretold the coming of the Righteous One, and now you have become his betrayers and murderers. You are the ones that received the law as ordained by angels, and yet you have not kept it.Acts 7:51-53

No wonder they wanted Stephen dead.

Setting the story on this day is an allusion to the real Wenceslaus’s faith and fate

Saint Agnes’ Fountain

When he inquires where the wood-gathering peasant lives, his page tells him the peasant lives by Saint Agnes’ Fountain. Agnes was also a real person, though the carol turns the history on its head because Agnes was a descendant of Wenceslaus. While there are a number of Agneses venerated by the Church, there is only one whose story is germane to the tale of Wenceslas.

Agnes of Bohemia lived three centuries after the time of Wenceslaus, and the political landscape has changed significantly from the 10th to the 13th century. There was peace with Hungary, and Bohemia had greater power and protection from its German sovereigns. However, Agnes was to be given in marriage to secure that political alliance, but Agnes had something else in mind.

The Church was going through its own process of renewal during the 13th century as a movement of mendicant orders sprung up led by such saints as Francis of Assisi and Clare of Assisi during the time of Pope Gregory IX. Agnes secured support from Pope Gregory and joined the order of the Poor Clares. She built a hospital on land donated by Wenceslaus, and also built a monastery. Like her ancestor, Agnes chose sanctity over power.

Sanctity and Power

This is the theme that Good King Wenceslas, with its lilting melody and moral exposition, invites us to ponder.

Let’s face it: if we look at the history of Church’s relationship to power, it’s clear that it’s better to keep religion away from the business of statecraft. But does that mean we shouldn’t expect our state officials who exercise power of office to also exercise some practice of holiness as humans and (as Dickens put it) “fellow travelers to the grave”? When we raise up leaders at the local, state, and national levels, ought we not expect them to display some evidence of kindness and charity? More importantly, how would we know if they were? The media cycle feeds on scandal, anxiety, and gossip.

It’s up to us, you and me and everyone with a camera built into their phone, to record moments of compassion and generosity. It’s up to us to practice the art of attending to kindness, of giving attention to works of mercy and goodness that reveal the sanctity of a higher way all around us. Only then will we begin to see rulers appear who earn our trust, admiration, and love the way young Wenceslaus, Duke of Bohemia, once did.